


Shed That Monkey Suit

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out of the Umbrella Academy [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - No Adoption, Awkward Luther Hargreeves, Dancing, Diego and Ben and Luther are not related/no adoption, Diego and Klaus are not related/no adoption, Fluff and Humor, Hallucinations, Hippie Ben Hargreeves, Hippie Diego Hargreeves, Hippie Klaus Hargreeves, Hippie Luther Hargreeves, LSD, Luther is Reginald's Only Son, M/M, Marijuana, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Music, Musician Diego Hargreeves, Nervous Luther Hargreeves, Nudity, Recreational Drug Use, References to the Beatles, Reginald Hargreeves is an awful man, Sarcastic Ben Hargreeves, Smart References to Luther's ape body, clubs, he has a human body in this, mentions of police brutality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 16:45:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Now that Diego's turned on to a new lifestyle, is it time to pay it forward?After running into a familiar face that jumpstarted his journey into the counter-culture, Diego tags along as Seance looks to help Luther discover his inner freak. What'll happen when he has to spend an evening with the son of the man who got him fired? Who he might have beat up when still a police officer? Will the past come back to haunt him? Or will Luther discover how far out it is to live like Seance and Diego?





	Shed That Monkey Suit

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm back at it again with this universe! People liked the other one so much I figured why not make a sequel?
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

            Diego breathes in deep, the sweet smoke a comfort to his lungs. Leaning back in his chair, he returns his attention to the stage in front where a band of three plays a hypnotic melody. The lone woman of the group repeats three chords on her piano, while the drummer sticks to hitting the barrel-like drum on every fourth beat. Tonight’s star of the show is the man leading them, plucking at the strings of his sitar like a master. He introduced himself as Ravi, and told a story of how when he was little every day his father would make him practice the sitar for three hours and through those lessons he came to a better understanding of his spirituality.

            The way he plays his instrument astounds and terrifies Diego, mostly because he feels he may never be as great a performer like Ravi. He’s still a novice, but an expert seems too far a dream to reach.

            One day he was strolling along the streets and saw a beat-up guitar lying about and brought it back to the apartment he and Séance share. He never thought about becoming a musician, but as he spent more time with the other man he learned to be more open to new opportunities and experiences. They had discussed earlier in that day about acting on impulses. He imagined himself playing the guitar on a whim, and Diego picked it up without a second-thought. Grief only came after he placed the strap over his chest within their home.

            Séance walked in on him stumbling through notes and chords. He glided over and wove his arms around his shoulders, kissing him. “That sounds lovely, my dear.”

            Diego rolled his eyes, blushing. “Just sayin’ that…” he mumbles, “’m not very good.”

            “It doesn’t matter if you’re good,” Séance told him, “What matters is you have a story to tell. If you’ve got that you can _make_ yourself good.”

            He kept with the guitar, picking up new tricks every now and then. Still not enough to perform with confidence like Ravi and his group, but enough to warble out a private performance in his apartment.

            Séance leans over and pecks at his cheek. “You’re doing it again.”

            “Doing what?”

            “Stop being so hard on yourself,” he whispers, “Of course he’s good, he spent his entire childhood practicing instead of having _fun_. You’ll get there eventually.”

            Diego grins, Séance always knowing what to say. He slides his hand into his and squeezes, a promise to show his gratitude in other ways.

            Séance, not a patient man, glances away. Diego isn’t sure what he’s looking at until he feels something tickling his leg. Then he realizes wherever Séance looks isn’t as important as what he’s _doing_.

            His naked foot brushes Diego’s denim-clad leg, dancing up the length of it to his knee before trailing down to tap at where the leather of his sandal meets skin. He repeats the motions in time with the music. Foot moves up, the drum beat hits, foot goes down, the drum beat hits. Diego bites his lip, waiting for Séance to push further. It happens when all three instruments played together at the same time, his foot jumping up to press down at his crotch. He gasps, thankful that the music was too loud to hear it and the smoke thick enough to hide his blush and wide pupils. Tugging at his turtleneck, Diego glares at Séance.

            Séance doesn’t pay him any attention, his foot receding back down to his ankle, rubbing at the exposed flesh there. Another part of his body teases Diego now, hand creeping up from where it rested on the chair behind him to tug at his hair. The locks are much longer than when they first met, his bangs always falling in front of his eyes when he walks. Séance uses it to his advantage.

            For the first time this evening Diego regrets the many layers he wore. The jeans feel like a prison, and the leather fringe vest over the turtleneck is overkill. Even the medallion resting against his stomach feels like too heavy a weight. Turning back to Séance, he takes in how he dressed. The simple, colorful kaftan looks glorious, especially on Séance. It’s a little too big, so it hangs on him; exposes his collarbone and shoulder deliciously. His mouth waters at the sight. He dips his head, orbiting close to it. If Diego inched even closer, his lips could devour the supple skin on display.

            A different foot slams into his knee, the pointed toe drawing forth a quiet yelp. Rubbing it, Diego adjusts his gaze from Séance to Ben. Ben raises a brow, judging him behind his turquoise-colored sunglasses.

            “Hey,” he hisses, “Save it for later, okay? This isn’t a love-in.”

            “C’mon Ben baby,” Séance drawls, still playing with Diego’s hair, “free love is what it’s all about. These people won’t mind at all –“

            “Enough,” Ben says, “Or I’m not giving you the tabs after.” Diego never thought a man with hair past his shoulders and a flowery shirt could be threatening, but Ben disproved that. Both his voice and threat sent him and Séance into frenzy, shaking their heads and promising to be good.

            The rest of the performance goes without incident, from them. The rest of the audience made no effort to reign themselves in. Once the band finishes their slow number they pick the pace up and freak out into an insane song. Their music, coupled with the erratic, colorful lights shifts the mood of the crowd. People from different tables started leaping up and moving their bodies to the groove.

            Séance copied them, bouncing around and spinning, garment twirling. Diego looked to Ben, waiting for his permissive sigh and nod so he can join, too. The floor shook with how chaotic everyone danced. Diego’s legs barely shifted but his arms wiggled and waved near everywhere. By the time the group finished their last number, he was sweaty, aching, and beaming. Ravi thanked them all for being a beautiful, wonderful audience and transitioned off the stage.

            Diego takes a hit from Ben’s offered grass cigarette, handing it back when finished. “That was far out,” he sighs, slumping onto the table.

            “I know what you mean,” Séance says, “The music just came over me, it was like I had no control over my body!”

            Ben rolls his eyes, “I didn’t think you had any to begin with.”

            Séance shoves at him, chuckling. “Anyway, why don’t we hit the skids? Without music the whole aura of this place shifted by like three hues.” Agreeing, the trio left their table and squeezed past the remaining crowd out onto the city streets.

            Diego’s hand twitched to hold Séance’s, but knew better than to do so. Instead he walks close enough to knock shoulders with him every step, listening as he and Ben compare the last band with the three other they had seen earlier. He thought they all sounded good, but the other two had vastly different opinions of who was best.

            When he first met Ben, Diego wasn’t sure what Séance saw in him. Most of their conversations dissolved into bickering, and the Asian man always has a backhanded compliment waiting to slap Séance across the face with.

            He asked him one night after an intense lovemaking session, with Séance tracing their cum on Diego’s chest. Séance shrugged and said, “I served with Ben’s twin brother, in the war. When we first met I’d had already ingested _quite_ a lot of acid, and spent the entire time sobbing and apologizing for not being able to protect him. When I came to, I found out that Ben never left my side throughout my entire trip. He stayed with me through the good and the bad, even cleaning me up after I vomited everywhere.” Séance chuckles and drops a kiss to the area over Diego’s heart. “He’s a good man and a good friend, we show it differently that’s all.”

            One of those ways is how Ben supplies Séance with all his drugs. He had better connections and knew trustier dealers, so there wouldn’t be another situation like when they first met. “Actions do speak louder than words, Diego my love,” Séance purred and embraced him and initiating a second round.

            They round the corner; all laughing after Ben made a joke about the old guy who sneered as he passed them, when they happen across a strange sight. Two women with wild hair and bored expressions smoke cigarettes while a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit talks at them. Even though he looks put together, it’s clear to see how he falls apart the longer he speaks without getting a response. From the back of his mind, the man’s face tickles Diego’s memory.

            “Look at that,” Ben says, “Mister Plastic trying to turn a coupl’a chicks onto the straight and narrow.” He and Séance snicker, Diego still trying to place where he knows the man.

            One of the girls puffs at her cigarette before dropping it onto the sidewalk. Grabbing her friend’s hand they float away without saying goodbye. The man doesn’t stop talking, voice chasing after them until it mutters into oblivion. Sagging against the brick-faced wall behind him, the man scrubs a hand through his short hair.

            Séance hums in thought, worrying Diego. It’s a sound he’s familiar with, a warning that his roommate and lover was about to do something dumb. He broke from their trio, calling out frantically to the stranger. Diego meets Ben’s withering stare as they both sigh at Séance’s actions.

            The man whips his head up and stiffens as Séance approaches. Trapping him, Séance starts chatting the man up. He resembles a lost child, especially in this neighborhood with a three-piece suit and clean cut. Ben, still working on his grass, passes it over to Diego to help him finish it off. Diego distracts himself by getting higher, the cigarette a nub by the time Séance comes back with the man glued to his side.

            “Say hello to Luther Hargreeves, everybody!” Séance says, “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the right spirit – so we’re going to help!”

            Diego drops the still-smoldering grass, eyes wide. Instantly his mind rolls back and finds the exact reason why the man looked familiar. The reason he was fired was for ‘attacking’ the son of the wealthy industrialist and upstanding citizen Reginald Hargreeves. He remembers seeing a guy in a different color suit but similar face walking into the riots when the police received the go ahead to ‘break it up’. What he can’t recall is whether or not he actually punched him, or if Luther remembers him. He does stare at him, although it’s probably because he hasn’t said anything for quite some time.

            “Hey,” he says, waving his hand and ducking his eyes. Séance frowns at him, but he’s saved from any explanations by Ben’s sudden announcement.

            “I’m not feelin’ a project right now, so I’m gonna dip back to my pad,” he says, “And so you’re not calling me up, saying I _forgot_ …” Ben waves three sheets of acid in the open.

            Séance happily grabs at it, giggling. “Thanks Ben, always providing the best stuff.” He turns to Luther, wrapping his arm around the crook of his elbow and leading him away. “You’re going to learn so much from us! We’ll turn you on to so many things – I have a lot of experience doing that. You can ask Diego, he was sort of like you when we first met. Wouldn’t you say that Diego? Diego?”

            Diego snaps out of his daze, bidding a quick farewell to Ben before jogging to catch up. “Yeah, totally.” He stays behind them on their journey back to their apartment, gaze never dropping from Luther. Luther, too focused on Séance, doesn’t notice his spying.

            “And here we are!” Séance sweeps his arm out wide in front of their building, “Groovy School for the Cramped and Unhip. No plastic turned away! Come on, we don’t want to be late!”

            Séance motions him up the steps, Diego dragging his feet behind their wake. For once the walk up to their apartment is blessedly devoid of their neighbors. Obviously since they’re arriving home too early for a Friday night. Usually the building’s tribe were up until all hours grooving and vibing, using most of Saturday to bask in the afterglow of a wonderful evening of hedonistic pleasure. He’s not upset to be home early, hoping he and Séance would find their way back after the show. Diego was tired from his early shift at the adult entertainment store that he works at now, the customers more exasperating than usual. And while seeing their building always lifts his mood, the night was not going how he imagined.

            They reach their door in no time, Séance pushing it open with mock fanfare. “Don’t mind the mess, it’s all a part of our charm,” he says, sliding out of his sandals and pulling at his kaftan, “I’m going to get a tad more comfortable. Loosen up some, and don’t be afraid to chat with Diego. He looks like he’ll bite but he’s a real softie.” Séance disappears behind their beaded bedroom door, leaving the two of them alone.

            Diego, after shucking his own sandals next to Séance's, striding over to his guitar where he left it leaning against the side of his couch. Tuning it, plucking at it, teasing out chords are all things he hope gives the appearance to Luther that he’s busy and in no mood to talk. It doesn’t work since Luther gingerly sits on the edge of the space next to Diego.

            “So…” Luther starts, hands squeezing his thighs, “Is he always like that?”

            Diego shrugs. “Usually.”

            “And his name,” he chuckles, “Séance? That’s…” Luther falters; Diego’s glare very threatening when someone talks badly about people he cares about. “Uh,” he says, “it’s very… _groovy_.” Diego grunts in agreement, strumming a few notes.

            “Séance,” Luther tries again after a beat of silence, “he said something –“

            “He says a lot of things.”

            “He said you were like me?”

            Diego sighs, placing his guitar back down. “Not exactly like you. But I didn’t know a thing about the culture… had a few misconceptions, believed a _lot_ of lies about these people and – and _enforced_ them.”

            “Enforced them?” Luther mutters, frowning. Diego doesn’t expand on that, too scared the other man might connect the dots. Instead, he waits and shakes out his nervousness. Leg bouncing, fingers wringing together, and tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth: all work to drive Diego nuts.

            He growls, “Can you maybe _stop_?”

            Stunned, Luther ceases all his little quirks. “Sorry,” he says, “I’m a… a little nervous. This is the first time I’ve ever been _inside_ one of your people’s apartments.”

            Diego scowls. “ _Your_ people’s?”

            “You know, _hippies_.” Luther’s eyes dart around, “It’s not at all like I imagined, but I’m also not surprised.”

            He glances as if trailing after Luther’s gaze, examining his apartment, trying to understand what Luther meant. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him, their home barely changed since he moved in.

            It was a week after he met Séance, and they were relaxing in their room sharing a joint. Séance wondered if Diego had his own place. He told him yes, but couldn’t answer when asked why they never went there.

            After his life-altering change, there wasn’t much reason for Diego to want to see it again. It was drenched in bad karma and toxic vibes, things he didn’t want to have weighing him down. When he worked up the courage, he vocalized all this to Séance. Séance shook his head and huffed. “Still, there’s got to be _some_ _things_ you want to take with you?”

            Diego didn’t say it, but he was glad when Séance dragged him back to his old apartment to clean it out. There were a few pictures of him and his family he would have lost if he stayed stubborn, as well as some clothes that fit with the new life he’s leading and the locket his mother wore until the day she died. Everything else he left for the landlord to find and sell, no true connection to it.

            In the few months he’s been with Séance, Diego hasn’t amassed many other things. His new wardrobe was picked out from shops that gave these types of clothes away or were borrowed from Séance and friends. And there were a collection of books scattered about ranging from sociological discussions to science fiction adventures. He was in the middle of Adlous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’ and wouldn’t mind getting back to it. Instead he’s babysitting some doe-eyed trust baby. If Luther’s spine were any stiffer it’d pop out from his back.

            “You wanna be less nervous?” Diego says, “Try and not look so out of place.”

            Luther raises a brow. “What does that mean?”

            “Get comfortable –“

            “Séance said that but –“

            “Loosen up, ditch the monkey suit or at least pop a few buttons and stop strangling yourself with that tie.”

            Luther glances down at his outfit, pouting. “You don’t like my clothes?”

            “Do you like your clothes?”

            “…Well they’re _mine_ –“

            “That’s not an answer.”

            Scowling, Luther stands and fiddles with his tie. “Do you have a bathroom in this place?” he asks.

            Diego points towards an actual door. “Don’t take any stray pills,” Diego calls to him, swinging his feet up where he once sat, “Who knows what affect they’ll have on you.” He cackles at the frightened expression that flits across Luther’s face, relaxing into the worn cushions.

            There isn’t a moment of peace. When Luther shuts the bathroom door, Séance emerges from behind the beaded curtain in an open floral-print shirt and a patterned, knee-length skirt. “Now the first lesson is…” Séance stops, smile falling. He searches the room, “Where’s Luther.”

            “Bathroom.”

            “Oh…” Séance shuffles over towards Diego and sits on his legs, pouting. “And after I picked such a pretty outfit…”

            “It’d be lost on that straight-laced freak,” Diego says, crossing his arms.

            “He’d come to appreciate it in time,” Séance waves him off. Then, he turns to look at him, gnawing at his lip. Séance reaches for his wrist, squeezing. “Hey, are you okay?”

            “Why’re you asking?”

            “Because you’ve been acting like you’re coming off a bad trip and it’s making my aura turn sour,” Séance says, “So are you going to tell me or keep sulking?”

            Diego would prefer to sulk, but knows how impossible that is with Séance so close at hand. He tugs his legs out from under Séance and drops them in his lap. It’s an unspoken request, and he understands. Starting with his left foot, Séance rubs and massages it.

            When the cramps in his foot disappear, he begins. “I recognized Luther.”

            Séance pauses, raising a brow. “Recognize how?” he asks, “Was he in the force with you?”

            “Like he’d make it through the academy,” Diego scoffs, “Keep going – anyway, it didn’t connect until you said his name. Hargreeves. His old man was the reason I got bagged from my police gig.”

            “That’s good!”

            “How?”

            Séance switches to his right foot. “Well, if you weren’t fired we never would have met. And you wouldn’t be living the totally groovy life you do now!”

            “Cleaning up jizz at work _and_ at home?”

            “You love it,” Séance chuckles, “And there’s more to your life than that. There’s your _burgeoning_ music career and your amazing roommate who plies you with good dick and drugs and has painted at least three abstracts of you.”

            “That last one looked nothing like me,” Diego says, “I told you the orange didn’t flow.” He slips his foot out of Séance’s hold, bringing his knees to his chest and hugging them. “It’s not that I miss my old life, I really don’t. There was nothing much of it to miss. What’s bothering me is… I might have punched him or I might have not. I can’t remember, that protest was all a blur. And I don’t know if he remembers it or not either. If he does what do I say, and if he doesn’t do I want to bring it up?”

            Séance smirks and taps at Diego’s head. “You’ve got a lot going on in your thinker, don’t you?”

            Diego bats him away. “Yeah, because you decided to invite the _one_ guy I didn’t want to run into.”

            “Now we both know you have _many_ guys you’d rather not run into.”

            “Why’d you invite him back home anyway?” Diego asks, “What’s your angle with that?”

            Séance shrugs. “There’s no angle.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah,” he says, “I just… watching him filled me with this intense pity. He looked like some awkward mime, screaming but no one could hear him. I recognized it… I’ve seen it too many times before. All Luther’s searching for is a way to escape – what we’re all working towards.” Diego hums, fight wavering inside of him with Séance’s argument. “Look how much your life improved after my help, the happiness you’ve found. I figured it worked once before… maybe magic will strike twice?”

            Diego rolls his eyes, smirking. “Trying to recreate our special moment? You getting bored of me already?”

            “Never!” Séance laughs, throwing an arm over Diego’s shoulders, “I wouldn’t have you anywhere else besides my _bed_. Although,” he adds, “I wouldn’t be against having a few more partners from time to time, if that’s okay with you?”

            Diego bites at his lip as a grin unfurls across his face. “We’ll see how tonight goes and open the floor for discussion later.”

            “You’re the best!”

            Luther re-enters the living room, clothing more mussed than earlier. He lost the tie he wore, and the first few buttons were undone exposing a surprising amount of chest hair. His shirttails hang over, having been pulled from their tuck. Diego and Séance give each other a healthy amount of space when they hear him.

            “So?” Luther starts, “Is this comfortable?”

            The two on the couch lock stares, sighing. “It’s a nice try,” Séance says, standing, “But if I could make a few suggestions…” Séance drifts over, playing with Luther like he were a doll. He removes the suit jacket, tossing it in a heap to the right. “Pop open all those buttons,” he tells him, kneeling, “And don’t kick – I happen to like my teeth.” Luther does as directed; freeing more of the fur on his chest while Séance removes his shoes. He seizes when Séance goes to take his socks off as well.

            “Sorry,” he says, blushing, “I’m – uh… a little ticklish.” Séance takes care with that step, putting the shoes and stocks alongside the suit jacket.

            “There!” Séance claps, “Now _that’s_ what I call comfortable.” He tugs at Luther’s chest hair. “I see you’ve already taken to some of our grooming habits.”

            “It’s a disorder,” Luther says, crossing his arms over his chest, “My body grows a lot of hair abnormally fast…”

            “Hey, it’s okay – no need to hide!” Séance forces Luther’s arms to the side, “First lesson: _love_. We’re all about that beautiful thing. Freely loving one another, loving yourself… love’s what makes the world go round and keeps us human. You got that?”

            “I – I think so?”

            “Then on to lesson two!” Séance drags Luther back over to the couch, shoving him into it as he flits across the room. He shifts his gaze over to Diego, eyes wide and frightened. Séance moves over to the record player, putting on one of their Van Morrison albums. The guitar echoes in their space, their tone enchanting and mystifying. He sways his hips, arms raised overhead. Spinning fast, skirt fanning out, Séance faces them and dances over.

            As he dances, he begins a very one-sided conversation with Luther. Séance breezes past topics and shifts points in the middle of sentences with Luther barely able to keep up. Diego watches the attempts at teaching with a critical eye, making assumptions while nodding his head along to the beat.

            “And that’s why nuclear anything is a trap,” Séance says, “Families… power… all designed to suck the life out of you and turn you into a walking corpse. Do you have any questions so far?”

            Luther sighs, rubbing at his temple. “I have… so many…” He begins parodying Séance’s teachings, with each lesson a bent replica of what Séance originally said. It’s like Luther saw Séance’s world through a funhouse mirror. Each time Séance corrects him the easy grin falls a little bit more into a depressed frown. Diego’s heart tightens at the sight.

            The needle skips and the same four notes repeat themselves in an annoying loop, interrupting Luther’s one-sided views of the Vietnam War. Glaring at the record player, Séance stomps his way over to fix it. Diego follows moments after, his hand tapping at Séance’s wrist.

            “Hey,” Diego whispers, “I think it’s my turn to ask if you’re okay?”

            Séance sighs, drumming his fingers on the record. “We’re driving down an open road going nowhere with him.”

            He rolls his eyes. “Well, what did you think would happen?”

            “I don’t know,” Séance says, “Maybe some sort of an epiphany, by now! I mean, as much as I love to hear myself talk I’m getting tired of it…” Turning big, dewy eyes towards him, Séance pouts. “It was so easy with you, I figured I might be able to turn on a whole wave of people who’re denying themselves the freedom of happiness.”

            Diego smiles and slides away from Séance’s wrist, towards his hand to squeeze his fingers. “I hate to break your fantasy, but I _am_ a special guy…”

            “Of course you are.”

            “And really… no one wants to be lectured at,” he continues, “Being talked down to makes you defensive, s’true for people of all walks of life. What we shared was much different you can’t really recreate it. The universe fell into place for us to meet, with me at rock bottom and you my guiding light. Of _course_ I was a success story, fate wrote it that way.”

            Séance shifts closer to Diego, hiding their hands as he tangles them together. “I’m glad you’re who you are now and not the hateful fellow from so long ago.”

            “It took a lot of failures,” Diego says, “And some _creative_ teaching. Very different from what you’ve got going on here, man.”

            A flicker of an idea bursts behind Séance’s eyes, making the hazel shine brighter. “Of course,” he says, “That’s why…” Grinning, Séance wraps Diego in a tight hug. “Thank you, I think I know what to do!”

            “Really?”

            He nods. “I’ve been going about this all wrong. Wrapped up in the bad kind of fantasy – not doing things the way I know how.” Séance chuckles, “You think you’re so enlightened but you can still manage to stumble and doubt yourself…”

            Diego latches onto his shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

            “I’m going to set something up.” At Diego’s glare, Séance rolls his eyes. “Nothing sexual… like you said I cannot recreate the cosmic shift caused by our meeting. But there was _one_ part that I know helped you shift your point of view enough to _want_ to learn.” Séance slips out of his hold. “I’ll be only a moment!”

            Diego scrubs a hand down his face, rubbing at his scruffy beard. Looking over towards the couch, he catches Luther quickly turning away. In not wanting to be caught spying, the larger man gave himself away. He returns to his seat, slumping into it and startling Luther.

            He makes a thoughtful noise from the back of his throat, and glances at Diego from the corner of his eye.

            “What?”

            “Is it supposed to be this hard?” Luther asks, small voice betraying his size, “Like, why isn’t it making any sense? What I know is –“

            “Exactly,” Diego cuts him off, “What _you_ _know_ … that’s your problem. You’re still clinging to everything you were taught; still digging a broken system. Séance and me, we came in from a place that knows how shitty it treats people like us. How it doesn’t care. Séance is vibing at you, trying to free your knowledge box, but you’re shying away from his help.”

            Luther sighs, flexing his fists. “Maybe I just can’t get it.”

            “If you really want to change,” Diego says, “you will. It’s not a switch that happens overnight. It’s a lot of… tearing down and building up in here,” he points to his head, “And it gets confusing. But once you align yourself with the universe, man – get in tune with the natural world, you’ll understand how pointless some of the things are that society cares about.”

            “How?” Luther asks, “How can I do that?”

            “Meditation… a lot of self-reflection, talking with other people,” Diego lists off, smirking, “Really what helps though is if you –“

            “Drinks!” Séance interrupts, two glasses of water in hand. He forces them on Diego and Luther, sitting down on the floor and staring up at them.

            Luther frowns at it, confused. “What?”

            “Drink,” Séance tells him, “We’ve been at this awhile, and I’m sure you must be thirsty. So drink up!”

            He glances at Diego, his face the same confused mask that he wears. But after knowing Séance for so long, Diego trusts that whatever he has planned will work. And if it doesn’t, it’ll be a hell of a good time. Downing it in one gulp, he urges Luther to do the same with a playful glare.

            When Luther finishes he hands the glass back to Séance. “That was… refreshing, thank you? Anyway,” he shakes his head, “you were saying something about getting in tune and whatever, what really helps?”

            “Oh, simple,” Diego shrugs, “ _drugs_.”

            “Drugs?”

            “Drugs!” Séance claps, “I do love drugs!”

            “But, but…” Luther leans in close, dropping his voice to a whisper, “aren’t drugs _illegal_.”

            “Man you’re talking to a former cop, of course I know that.” At Luther’s searching stare, Diego carries on. Hoping to distract from his little slip up. “And yeah, that was what I said, too, before I had any. And I agree – grass and acid are illegal for a reason. So people can’t wake up and see a lot of what we’re told to do is pointless. If the world turned on as one, we’d end war, poverty, hunger and so many other bad things. But the man in charge don’t want that happening, it’d cause his shitty system to come crumbling down. Put him on an even playing field like everybody else!”

            “So you’re saying I need to take _drugs_?”

            “A little grass wouldn’t hurt, it’d loosen you up,” Diego says, “And acid… baby, acid opened my mind up to so many wonderful things and new ideas. Helped me settle my soul, gave me the chance to start over and relearn _everything_. What’s going on with you, I can definitely tell you’d benefit from taking a ride with Lucy in her Sky of Diamonds…”

            “I don’t,” Luther starts, standing, “I don’t think that’d be right! I could get arrested, or _hooked_ , or – or someone could see me and tell my dad –“

            “You worry what other people think too much,” Diego chuckles, “Relax.”

            “I will not relax!”

            “You really should,” Séance chimes in, “Otherwise you’ll be in for a _real_ bad trip.”

            Luther squints at him. “What are you talking about?”

            “I knew it,” Diego cries, slapping his knee, “You put the acid in the water, didn’t you?”

            Séance shrugs. “Couldn’t very much slip it to him the same way I did to you, now can I?”

            “You drugged me?” Luther asks, “How can you – why would you do that?”

            “To help,” Séance tells him, “But I can’t hold your hand and let you wade. We need to throw you into the deep end and teach you to swim.”

            “Listen, man, it’ll all be groovy,” Diego says, tugging him back onto the couch, “If you go into it with a stick in your ass, it’ll be an uncomfortable ride.”

            Luther looks like he still has some fight left in him. However, under both Diego’s and Séance’s knowing stares, he lets the dregs of his stubbornness evaporate into the ether. He curls in on himself, rocking back and forth as he waits for the drug to hit.

            Diego can already feel the edges of his vision swirling with colors, the acid compounding the high he already had from the large amount of grass he smoked throughout the day. “Séance, why don’t you put another record in? Something… _yellow_.”

            “On it!”

            He stumbles upwards, bouncing over to the record player once more to fill their home with music. Sunflowers bloom from the stereos, the music making them curl upwards and outwards over towards them. Diego strokes the petals of one, nuzzling his face against its. “This is some good shit,” he says, “Remind me to thank Ben when we see him again.”

            “You’re always asking me to do that.”

            “I am.”

            “Ben always gets good shit,” Séance shrugs, “So naturally…”

            “Huh.” Diego slides down the couch, “Are you still gonna?”

            “Yeah, always.”

            “Good.”

            Time bends around them once the drug kicks into overdrive. Diego watches as the sunflower pedals wither and drop, replaced by blue, red, and then purple. Séance spreads out on the floor, eyes glued to the ceiling. He asked what was so interesting.

            “The stars twinkle so nicely this time of night.”

            “You can see them?”

            “Can’t you?”

            Glancing upwards, Diego squints at where Séance looks, but can’t see past the thick canopy of leaves. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

            Luther concentrates on his hands, turning them every which way. “Whoa…” he mutters, “have my hands always been this… _large_?”

            Diego closes his eyes. “Hmm?”

            “They’re just so huge and hairy… and my feet too! Am I a man, or something else?”

            “You sound like a monkey,” Séance chimes in, “Monkey man, monkey man!”

            “I’m a monkey?”

            “We all are,” he sings, “Humans are descended from apes so we have their spirit flowing through us. At certain times that animal instinct might take over, and we give into our _primal urges_.” He hears Séance finally shift on the ground. “What is your monkey brain telling you to do?”

            “I… I think it wants me to dance?”

            “Then dance!”

            Cracking an eye open, he sees Luther stagger to his feet and roll through a full-body seizure. His dancing, although erratic, amuses Diego. He claps along to the ridiculous way Luther moves his body. With each sweeping step, flowers bloom through the cracks of their floor. In no time at all their home has become a literal garden.

            “We should get more plants,” Diego says aloud, sniffing at the vibrant bushes of flowers.

            “What was that, dear?”

            “I said we need more plants, more flowers.” Diego gestures wide with his hands, “All different colors and smells, so like every morning we wake up it’s like we fell asleep outside!”

            Séance skews his head to the side. “Why don’t we sleep outside, then?”

            “What if it rains?”

            “Has that bothered us before?”

            “Are you saying you don’t want flowers?”

            “Did I say that?” Séance asks, “No, no I want flowers. Flowers are groovy, especially if they make you smile like that.” Diego ducks his head into his chest, rosebuds dotting his cheeks.

            “I like flowers,” Luther adds, shimmying, “my father doesn’t. He thinks they take up good space developers could use to expand properties.”

            Diego giggles, rubbing at his thighs. “That does sound like ol' Papa Reggie!”

            He stops, blinking at Diego. “You know my dad?”

            The question catches him off guard, but the anxiety felt earlier in the night fades because of the acid. Diego answers him easily. “Sure do! Met him on my last day as a cop when he got… me… _fired_!”

            “That sounds like my dad,” Luther hums, hips still wiggling. “Why’d he fire you? Is it because you gave him a ticket? He doesn’t like it when you people are in positions of power. And I didn’t mean hippies, this time, I meant non-whites.”

            “He gave off that kind of energy,” Diego says, “But nah, because someone punched you and the blame fell on my shoulders.”

            “I was punched?”

            “Yeah at this rally months ago! A cop punched you… it might have been me, I can’t remember – my fists were swinging a _lot_ that day!” The words he speak finally process through his brain, and Diego realizes the mistake he made. Shrinking like a violet, Diego hides for the inevitable conflict that will come about, peeking a timid eye out between his fingers.

            “Wait… I think I remember…” Luther snaps his fingers, grinning, “Now I get why you look familiar! And how you were acting, things are making sense – a lot of things are making sense.” He turns to Séance, “Like what you said about the government and big business being in bed together, I get it now too!” Following the thread of the conversation back to Diego, Luther ambles his way over to the couch and sits. “You got fired because I got punched?”

            Diego barely nods. He expects Luther to start in on him, to yell and scream for punching him all that time ago. It seems like an eternity, like another life had aged and died between then and now. And now he’ll be paying for the sins of his past. Maybe this’ll sober Luther up and he’ll go fetch his father and have him and Séance arrested. Beat up before thrown into the back of a waiting cruiser. The verdant garden starts shriveling around him, drying petals and leaves raining down like an ominous storm. He shuts his eyes, breath stuttering alongside his racing heart. Luther laughs, a harsh cackle that triples in his mind.

            Wrenching an eye open when he feels a hand on his shoulder, Diego freezes when he notices Luther’s expression. Instead of the hateful, demonic snarl he imagined, he’s looking at a broken little boy with twin tear tracks. Luther’s body shakes with the force of his laughter. Diego frowns, “What’s so funny?”

            Luther wipes at his cheeks, the grin weird and strange like the palm trees dancing behind him. “That my dad cared enough to complain to the police,” he tells him, “Guess I caught him on a good day.”

            “…What?”

            “I didn’t even plan to go to that,” Luther says, “I was just walking by, having finished meeting with some of my dad’s corporate goons and was heading to the office. Passing by, I noticed the commotion and decided to check it out. Big mistake. People were running every which way, and I got caught up in the panic. Yes, someone did strike me in the back of the head… and kicked me in the back… and pressed down so hard I nearly suffocated.”

            Diego winces with each additional offense ticked off, but Luther doesn’t notice. He continues. “I got thrown into a huge truck with a bunch of others, and locked away in a huge holding cell. And do you know what happened?”

            “More cops roughed you up and spit on you?”

            “I was treated kindly by all the other people who jailed alongside me. They saw past the suit and made sure I was feeling okay, checking to make sure I wasn’t seriously injured. Then they invited me to join them as they sang songs and passed the time laughing. It was the most fun I can ever remember having. These people looked like they didn’t have much except each other and were… _happy_. And I was, too, for that short while.”

            “But then my dad came round and bailed me out, chewed my ear off. Complained how bad it would look for him to see me cavorting with a bunch of criminals and jobless drug-addicts. Called me a disappointment, as usual... It was then I realized how troublesome it was being so rich… all this money and I barely felt alive. After that I stole away any time I could to learn more about how your lives work, and if there any way in. I’m tired of living under my old man’s thumb, I crave _freedom_.”

            Diego smiles then, daisies blooming in his heart. “That’s exactly how I felt. Even before I got fired I was so miserable, was like I was life’s bitch. Seemed like as I got older the less control I had. Being a police officer made me a puppet of the man, and when my strings were cut I had no idea what to do next. But then I discovered that very freedom you’re talking about, thanks to Séance. It’s about being yourself and enjoying what you like without shame. Holding onto that childlike wonder even when they want to pry it away from you!”

            “Whoa…”

            “And I wouldn’t have learned that if your dad didn’t get me canned!” Diego laughs, clapping Luther on the shoulder. Luther, whose hand still rests on Diego, squeezes him back. “I should thank you.”

            “No, it’s me who should be thanking you,” Luther chuckles, “If you didn’t punch me I never would have wanted to try.”

            “I still don’t know if it was me who punched you.”

            “…I’m still going to thank you.”

            Then, Luther rushes forward and wraps Luther in a hug. It’s a warm embrace, and Diego waits a beat before melting into it. “See,’ Diego whispers, “the acid helps.”

            “I think I’m starting to dig acid,” Luther says, “I like the feeling of floating. Growing up I was kind of a hefty child, and I worked hard to shed that image. But I was still heavy… but now I'm so light I feel like I’m on the moon!”

            “Good going, Space Boy,” Diego laughs, tugging out of his hold, “You’re taking to this like a natural.”

            Luther preens under the compliment. Séance slithers over, then, a poorly wrapped cigarette in hand. “What a touching emotional moment. Celebrate with a little grass?”

            Diego grabs it from him, fixing it before lighting and toking a healthy breath. The smoke slips out smooth between his lips. He holds it to Luther, “What do you say?” he asks, smirking, “Want to break some more rules?”

            “Rules?” Luther chuckles, taking it, “You mean the man’s laws? Why not?” As he smokes, Séance crows with laughter.

            “By George I think he’s got it!” he cheers.

            Diego raises a brow, “Who’s George?”

            “George Harrison of course. The best Beatle.”

            “I think you mean _John Lennon_.”

            “We are not having this argument again.”

            Coughing, Luther adds his own opinion. “I’ve always been a fan of Ringo.”

            Diego and Séance glance at each other and sigh. Séance snatches the cigarette from his fingers. “You still have a lot to learn.”

            The rest of the evening passes in a blur. They exchange the grass until it runs dry, discussing a variety of topics ranging from music to early childhood and the current affairs gripping the nation. Diego passed out sometime between Klaus’s description of a local VA hospital and Luther’s hilarious impression of his father at charity events.

            Waking up, he finds his face glued to the hardwood floor by his drool. Prying himself up, he blinks into consciousness. “Ugh,” he murmurs, “what happened?”

            “A good time, Diego,” Séance says from the couch, chomping on an apple. He pats the seat next to him, “Come on up and enjoy.” Pulling himself onto the cushions, Diego’s senses attune themselves to the scene playing. The record player had once more been turned on, a groovy tune barreling out the sound system. There were clothes scattered on the armchair: a wrinkly button-down, grey slacks, and white briefs.

            Luther, naked and hairy, dances at the front of the room. His body moves with the energy of someone who hadn’t been up all night talking. Diego leans over to Séance, whispering, “How long has he been like that?”

            “I woke up to this,” Séance says, “Apparently the water diluted much of the acid’s effects, and he was losing his buzz. So he ripped off a tab or two and dosed himself.”

            “He must be tripping balls.”

            Luther laughs, spinning. “Everything is so pink!” he cries, “Like waves washing over my body…”

            Séance rolls his eyes. “I’m as kind as the next person but I’m no saint… I can’t deal with him if he’s going to be like this.”

            Diego agrees. “What do you want to do?”

            “Can we shove him out the door and hope he latches on to someone else?” When Diego stays silent, Séance stares at him wide-eyed. “That wasn’t a serious suggestion, you were supposed to tell me that’s a bad idea.”

            “…It’s not though.”

            Séance drags a hand down his face. “And here I thought you were my impulse control when Ben isn’t around.”

            “My brain’s fried from lack of sleep,” Diego tells him, “And we won’t dump him out like this… we’ll put him in something.”

            “I doubt we can get him to stop dancing long enough to get his suit back on.”

            “After last night who knows if he wants to wear it…” Diego’s eyes flit over to their room, an idea forming. “I think there is something he’ll like.” He disappears behind the beaded curtain, searching. Spotting it draped over the dresser, Diego thanks Séance’s inability to clean up after himself.

            Returning to the room, Séance spies what he carries. “No!” he says, “I like that!”

            “It doesn’t fit you.”

            “That’s why I like it!”

            “I’ll find you another one,” he says, whipping the colorful kaftan in the air with a snap. Luther breaks from his musical trance long enough to open an eye, catching the bright fabric.

            “Pretty,” he says, swaying closer, “What’s that?”

            “It’s some new threads for your new life,” Diego tells him, “I thought you might like it.”

            “It’s awesome!” Luther grins, sweeping Diego up in a hug. He drops him, taking the kaftan and slipping it overhead. It was the right choice, as where it hung on Séance it fit snugly on Luther. The V-neck seems painted on, and the sleeves bulge from his muscles. The hem ends a little under the knees, the slit high enough his butt nearly exposes itself. When he gives it a twirl, both his rear and crotch wave hello. “It’s perfect!” Luther says, “Thank you!”

            “And don’t forget this,” Séance says, dangling Luther’s tie, “An outfit is never complete without an accessory.”

            Luther bends down so Séance can tie the strip in a loose knot. Finished, he brushes invisible dirt of his shoulders and backs away. His arm snakes itself around Diego’s waist.

            “Can you believe it?” Séance asks him, “Graduated already. They grow up so fast.” He mimes wiping a tear away, leaning heavily on Diego.

            Confused, Luther stops fiddling with his tie to squint at them. “Graduated?”

            “Of course!” Séance says, “From the Groovy School for the Cramped and Unhip! You’re not either of those anymore – we turned you on, tuned you in, and now you’re ready to drop out!”

            The fog lifts from Luther’s eyes and his warm expression returns. He steps forward and gives Séance and Diego one final hug. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

            “You can’t,” Diego says, “But you can start by going out and living your life the way _you_ want to.”

            “Do you really think I’m ready?”

            “We know you are,” Séance says, winking, “There’s a whole groovy world out there waiting to meet the new Luther Hargreeves. We’d be hurting your _growth_ by keeping you locked away in our pad.”

            “That… makes sense,” Luther nods, drifting towards the door, “Okay! Today’s the first day of a new Luther. The world’s going to love me because _I_ already love _it_!”

            “That’s the spirit!”

            “Hopefully we’ll meet up again,” Luther says, halfway out the door, “We’re bound to cross tribes at some point.”

            Diego finds himself looking forward to that, hoping that truly is the case. “The universe will put you on our path again, I know it.”

            “Far out…” With that, Luther dances out the door and over towards the stairs.

            Séance shuts the door after him, slumping against it. “While we did a good thing, please feel free to smack me if I ever try to turn another plastic onto our way of life.”

            Diego rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

            “His vibes were off the chart,” Séance says, “I think our plan worked too well!”

            “Hey, there’s never too much of a good thing,” Diego tells him, dragging him away from the door and over towards their bed. “You were the one who taught me that.” 

            “I suppose…” They fall into bed, still in the clothes from yesterday night. Diego nestles his head onto Séance’s bare chest. He makes a thoughtful noise, the vibrations sending shivers through Diego’s body.

            “What’s on your mind this time?”

            “Just figuring out if I’m too tired for sex,” he says, glancing down at him, “Are you?”

            Smiling, Diego begins peeling his vest off. “I can go for a little sex right now.”

            “ _Groovy_.”

**Author's Note:**

> So? What did you think? Let me know by dropping a kudos/comment below!


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